


one brotherly voice in the haze

by sleeplessinaltissia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Deep and meaningful conversations, Getting Together, M/M, Voice Kink, dark forest vibes, dumb boys, not sexually graphic or explicit at all despite the voice kink tag lol, though it's more of a Noctis kink but we'll get to that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22463347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessinaltissia/pseuds/sleeplessinaltissia
Summary: And Prompto waits, because how could he not? He glances behind him, but he can’t see much of Noctis’ face besides a too-close blur of pale skin. Prompto feels … something. He’s not sure what. The dark and the mist close in around them, the bodies of tall trees fading out in a flood of grey and black, and everything, including Prompto’s mind, is a haze.(God, it’s a mess. He’s a mess. It’s one thing to be in love with his best friend, but it’s a whole other level of low to be getting hard-ons like a damn fifteen year old because he likes the sound of Noct’s voice in his ear.)
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, implied Ignis/Gladio if you look hard enough
Comments: 17
Kudos: 121





	one brotherly voice in the haze

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by every single time Noctis says "It's showtime" in-game like i'm sorry but that voice belongs in a bedroom.
> 
> Also I had the thought that some people might consider the expereinces in this fic to be similar to ASMR. I assure you this is not intended and, as someone who experiences ASMR, has no relation to the phenomenon at all.
> 
> Ok hope you enjoy ya nasty!

_And in his stead -_

_blazing the way for us- a little dachshund_

_bounded out of a garage, barking with joy,_

_one brotherly voice in the sultry haze._

From ' _En Route to Vienna'_ by Eugenio Montale, translated by Eamon Grennan

When they emerge from the dungeon it is a cold and wet and misty night that greets them. The darkness is incomplete, the moonlight refracting off the moisture in the air, but it brings no relief from their disaster of a dungeon crawl, is no different to being trapped beneath the cavernous rocks except for the occasional frigid breeze.

“Great,” Noct sighs. 

“Ignis is gonna kill us," Prompto moans. 

“We’d be dead already if he could’ve found us past this fog,” Noctis points out, taking out his phone, and that is the beginning and end of the problem, really. They’d only gone in to harvest a few things, the dungeon itself harmless apart for some stray, pesky goblins, but then Noctis warped into a wall and the ensuing avalanche of rocks blocked their closest exit and, well, it had taken a little longer to find their way out than Prompto had hoped.

Noctis pockets his phone with a shake of his head. Prompto looks at his own phone in despair, signal bars a sad, damning grey. 

Noctis summons his sword back from the armiger. The light is like a physical thing as it suspends in the fog, a big great beacon screaming out their location. Noctis winces in Prompto’s direction and gestures to the vast nothingness in front of them. “Camp’s that way.”

“Yep,” Prompto agrees, his voice high in the back of his throat. He summons his guns. He really, _really_ wants to grab the circular saw instead, but he doesn’t want to attract the attention of every single daemon in the area when he inevitably has to use it. The handguns are bad as it is.

Prompto takes position in front of Noctis, ignoring the clenched jaw thrown in his direction. He’s not dumb. Ignis and Gladio are far, far away, and he’s the only thing between Noct and who even knows how many daemons. He’ll keep count, he thinks, vaguely hysterically, and with a shaky but fortifying breath he starts walking.

It takes them a surprisingly long time to run into any daemons. It at least _feels_ like ages, Prompto so hyper-aware of their obscured surroundings that every shift in the fog has him holding his breath. He’s panicking enough that he’s rounded right back to being focused. Or at least he thinks he has, until he flinches so hard he almost drops his gun when Noct grabs him by the arm and hisses right into his ear, " _Wait "._

And Prompto waits, because how could he not? He glances behind him, but he can’t see much of Noctis’ face besides a too-close blur of pale skin. Prompto feels … something. He’s not sure what. The dark and the mist close in around them, the bodies of tall trees fading out in a flood of grey and black, and everything, including Prompto’s mind, is a haze.

Prompto can hear Noctis’ inhalation. He pauses. It is so quiet. Then he murmurs, soft and low, “Huge fucking daemon to our left,” and the information registers only distantly in his mind because his body is wracked with a sudden, intense shiver. The hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end, accompanied by the vivid and immediate playback of the rare timber to Noctis’ voice, deep and rumbling, and oh fuck, Astrals have mercy, the blood rushes to his dick so fast he’s dizzy from it. “We should go around,” Noctis continues in the same voice, shifting a hair's-breadth closer. It’s the difference between sensing his heat and _feeling_ his skin against the raised hairs now on the backs of his arms, the sensitivity achingly overpowering.

Prompto has to bite the inside of his cheek before his body can betray him with another shiver. “Yeah,” he manages to choke out, then blinks his eyes open in a rush, having no clue when he closed them. He swallows hard, adjusting his grip on the gun, before he steps away from Noct’s warmth. 

He can already feel the cold chasing away some of the unexpected heat, and he sighs in relief as he leads them around the daemon. That relief is quickly replaced by terror as Noct’s assessment checks out, and they tiptoe around what is a fucking huge Iron Giant, strangely still, its breaths trembling through the bedrock. Soon enough that hazy, shivery feeling, and any guilty concerns, fade away.

It doesn’t become a pattern exactly, but it’s enough that it happens again. Noctis warm against his back, voice low, lips brushing against his ear, warning Prompto about a daemon too dangerous for them to take on their own. The shiver is subtler, this time, but as if to make up for it Prompto’s blood rushes in his veins, flushes his skin a burning red that is hidden in the darkness but induces another shiver at the sudden temperature change. His dick, gone soft in the intervening minutes, _throbs_ with how hard he is. He never thought he could be so hard from so little, but his mind can all too easily conjure this moment in a different setting.

God, it’s a mess. _He’s_ a mess. It’s one thing to be in love with his best friend, but it’s a whole other level of low to be getting hard-ons like a damn fifteen year old because he likes the sound of Noct’s voice in his ear. Noctis needs someone who he can trust, who can protect him - not someone who’s ready to drop to his knees with nothing more than a literal word. Prompto wants to bury himself in the foliage and never get up. This is the most inconvenient kink in the _world_. 

By the time Prompto can glimpse the faint glow of the haven through the fog they haven’t had to fight a single daemon. Relief washes over him with such force that he deflates, hands on knees, with a heartfelt groan. Noctis hisses at him to be quiet. He’s in the middle of returning a tired thumbs-up when the shrill sound of Noct’s phone pierces the darkness and he nearly falls on his ass.

“Shit,” Noctis hisses, sword dissolving into nothing as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and fumbles to accept the call. “Iggy?” He whispers. Prompto immediately scans the area, swivelling on one heel. “We’re fine. Got caught up in the dungeon. No, we’re nearly at camp.” Prompto catches Noctis rolling his eyes. “It’s _fine,_ Specs, we can see the haven from here.”

A keening rumble erupts from behind them, and Prompto swivels, gun drawn, to see not one but _two_ Iron Giants emerge from the ground.

There’s no way they can take both daemons on their own.

“Run!” Prompto shouts. He lurches into a run and pushes Noctis ahead of him.

Trees and branches spring out from the fog. They dodge them inexpertly, fumbling through the undergrowth. The tang of wet soil and decomposing leaves burns in Prompto’s throat. The fog has begun to settle, making the ground slick with dew but revealing the light and shape of the haven like a beacon of hope as Prompto’s heart hammers in his chest, desperate to look behind him.

Prompto watches Noctis instead. The red soles of his shoes peak out from the fog and branches at an unsteady jog, disappearing every once and a while behind a tree or length of grass. He’s favouring his left side. Prompto’s chest clenches. He’s surprised Noct has lasted this long, and he knows he won’t last much longer. They’ll need to stop or he’ll need to warp away. The very thought of Noctis, alone up in a tree in the middle of the night while Prompto runs off from a situation they could have avoided if he’d only been smarter, a little less distracted … 

A shadow moves in the distance. Prompto stops and aims. 

“Keep moving!” 

The shadow coalesces into Gladio's broad silhouette. Relief floods through him, and Prompto is more than happy to jog up to Gladio, huge broadsword in one hand and glare so fierce Prompto feels kinda bad for the two daemons still lumbering behind them.

Noctis gets to Gladio first, who lays a large palm between Noctis’ shoulders to urge him onward. All three of them jog back towards camp. They’re close enough now that Prompto can see Ignis’ worried frown, and before he realises it they’ve stumbled onto the haven. Prompto falls to a heap, gasping, and nearly plants face first into the ground as Noctis' weight lands against his side. 

“Are you alright?” Ignis urges of Noctis first, and only after Noctis nods does he look at Prompto. 

"Just peachy," Prompto gasps, and only after _that_ does Ignis exhale, long and forceful, his worried expression hardening.

“You are lucky you are not seriously injured,” Ignis begins, “Or, Astrals forbid, lost! What were you thinking? Why didn’t you wait until the fog had cleared and we could come and assist you?”

Prompto winces. “Sorry, Iggy.”

“We were _fine_ before you called,” Noctis insists. Ignis shoots him a truly scathing look. The low, warbling whine of an Iron Giant travels over their camp. Noctis winces. “Sorry.”

“We cannot afford to take risks. We’re low on curatives and far yet from any pit stops.” Ignis scans Noct’s face, then Prompto's, and his expression softens. “You were only meant to be gone a while. What happened?”

“... avalanche,” Noct murmurs. “It’s a long story.”

“For another time, then,” Ignis relents, standing up. “I imagine you’ve got quite the appetite.” 

“Food,” Prompto moans, the thought of dinner eliciting a tired rumble from his stomach. 

The warbling of a second Iron Giant drowns him out. Ignis glances up at Gladio, who nods. “I’m afraid you’ll have to plate up dinner yourselves. Gladio and I will be back shortly.”

“What?” Noctis frowns. “After that lecture you just gave us?”

“We don’t need to engage them,” Gladio explains. “Just veer them off course. Damn things are too loud.”

“They may attract unwanted attention,” Ignis continues, and doesn’t explain further. He doesn’t need to. Daemons disappear with the sun, but Magitek don’t. “And you two have gone through enough tonight. Eat. We’ll be back soon.” With that Ignis stands, walking shoulder to shoulder with Gladio as they exit the protective magic of the haven and disappear into the darkness, the brief glow of a summoned weapon the last thing Prompto can see of them.

“Bit weird how they know what the other is thinking all the time, huh?” Prompto observes. Noctis smirks. “What?”

“Nothing,” Noctis dismisses, “just an idea.” Noctis groans as he stands up, and Prompto has the sudden, unexpected, brilliant view of his ass, and an equally sudden urge to just. Combust. Then Noctis stumbles a bit as he rights himself, hand pressed firmly against his lower back, and the feeling is smothered by a wave of guilt. Prompto’s shirt clings to him with a mixture of sweat and dew and adrenaline. His skin crawls. 

“I’m gonna go change,” Prompto mumbles.

“Want food?” Noctis calls after him. Prompto twists his head and catches Noctis’ gaze on him, eyes relaxed, his lips still parted at the end of his sentence.

Astrals, he’s beautiful.

“Sure!” Prompto squeaks, trying for cheerful, and scurries into the tent.

Prompto immediately releases a shaky breath. His hand wraps firmly around his wrist, though he doesn’t look down at it. 

He’s drawn a lot of lucky cards in his life. He has more than he could have ever hoped for - people he cares about, and who care about him, at least for now. That, outside? Those lips? That heart? That’s pushing his luck.

Prompto pulls his shirt over his head and balls it up. He can barely look at it. 

“Prom?”

Prompto jumps. He twists around in the narrow space and sees Noct crouched by the tent opening, expression settled into a careful frown. “Alright?”

Prompto holds the lump of his shirt up in front of his naked chest. His heart hammers. “Ah, y-yeah buddy. Just got distracted!”

Noctis gives him a contemplative look before shuffling further into the tent. Prompto has to back up so that they’re not - so that it doesn't happen again. But there’s no way for Noct to not be in his space. The tent is small, their sleeping bags bunched together and taking up a majority of the room. And even then, it’s dark. The lantern barely outlines the draping walls, accentuates the shadow of Noct’s body washed over his, and Prompto tries to fight it, he really does, but he can’t help the sharp inhalation, or the way his body freezes, unable to move further back but unwilling to move forward. 

Noctis really does frown then. “Hey,” he murmurs, hand outstretched, and that’s all it takes. His voice, soft in his concern, and the idea of his touch. Prompto shivers.

Shame and pleasure hit him at once. He lowers the ball of his shirt into his lap, and with it, his head.

“You’ve been doing that all night,” Noctis continues. Prompto’s blush is vicious and immediate. Shit, he’d _noticed?_ “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Uh huh,” Prompto chokes out. He is feverish with embarrassment. He can feel the warmth emanating from Noct’s body in the small space, is beginning to smell the salt of his sweat, the very edges of his cologne, still lingering on his clothes after all this time. His blood _rushes_ in his veins. He can’t remember the last time he was so riled up. 

Noctis doesn’t seem convinced. Prompto doesn’t blame him. Noctis shuffles forward just an inch, which is enough to make Prompto panic but also seems to be enough for Noct’s knee to skid on a sleeping bag. Noctis hisses and clutches his back. Prompto drops his shirt and any insecurities he has and reaches for Noct, who bats his hands away even with his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m fine,” he forces through gritted teeth, his expression already beginning to relax when he immediately repeats, “I’ll be fine.”

Prompto sits back on his heels. “Hypocrite,” he murmurs, smiling softly when Noctis opens his eyes. The smile disappears as Noctis begins to massage his lower back. “I’m sorry.”

Noctis frowns, glancing up. “What for?”

Prompto laughs. He’s really going to make him say it. As if. “Everything?” He tries, and when Noct looks like he wants to argue, he tacks on, “putting you in danger?”

Noctis’ expression twists with confusion instead. “What?” His voice is soft, but there’s a tinge of something less so, a blunt edge. 

Prompto glances to the side and laughs. “If I hadn’t been so distracted we would have reached the haven before Iggy even had to call us, you know?”

“I really don’t.” Noctis pauses, scanning Prompto’s face. His eyes suddenly drop, and the hand that had been massaging his back goes to comb through his hair. “If this is about that conversation we had back in Old Lestallum … Prom, you’re my best friend. You’re always going to matter to me. I know I don’t … say it as often -”

“You’re fine,” Prompto interjects, startling Noctis into staring at him. Prompto flushes. “Uh. It’s fine. I mean, this has nothing to do with that! That’s all good. We don’t need to talk about it ever again.”

“I want to, though.”

Prompto pauses. “You do?”

Noctis goes quiet, looks down at his lap. His fingers twist in the hem of his t-shirt. Prompto stays quiet in response, mostly curious, a little scared. He really does not want to have whatever conversation this is going to be. 

Noctis is deceptively quiet when he says, “This is shit. All of it.” Prompto holds his breath. “I didn’t think anything could be worse than going off to marry someone I didn’t even love, just to have kids who would have to suffer the same way my dad has - did. The way he did.” Noctis’ voice cracks, and he stops, clenching his jaw. “But then I lost _everything_ , everything except for you guys. You make this doable.” Noctis looks him right in the eye. “The other guys kinda made a promise to the gods, but you don’t even need to be here.”

Prompto blinks. That’s the most he’s heard Noctis say at once, like, ever. He’s kinda still processing the whole speech - is absolutely overcome with emotions, which all unfortunately fall right under the umbrella of “love” - but can’t help but feel like he’s being challenged, somehow. 

“Of course I’m here,” he says. “Where else would I be?”

Noctis shrugs. “You could have stopped at any of the places we’ve passed through.” He pauses for a moment, and then, gaze averted, adds, “Lestallum is safe enough.”

Prompto’s heart sinks. This is it. This is the moment Noctis will finally tell him that he’s dragging the team down, that it would be best for everyone if he went somewhere, anywhere else. “What are you trying to say?”

Something about his tone of voice makes Noctis look up. A complicated expression flickers across Noctis’ face before it settles, seemingly at conflict with itself, on annoyed. “Astrals Prom, I’m not telling you to leave. I want -” Noctis sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I should have said something. When we were in Lestallum. It would be a good idea - it’s safer there.”

Heat flares in Prompto again, but not the way it had before. It flushes high on his cheeks, in the knuckles of his hands. “Is that what you think I want? To be stuck in some hotel when anything could be happening to you?”

The annoyance solidifies in Noctis’ expression. “Do you think I like the fact that my best friend is risking his life for me?”

“You don’t need to like it!” Prompto cracks, voice rising. “It’s happening! It’s a thing!”

“You could have gotten _killed,_ Prompto!”

Prompto tries, but he can’t manage to hide the hurt in his voice when he says, “And what, you would be so much safer without me?”

“No!” Noctis shouts, before he clamps his mouth shut. He lets out a long breath and settles back onto his heels.

Prompto swallows. He doesn’t know how he feels after all that. Better? Worse? Mostly he feels confused, like the world has been given to him and taken away, over and over. “Then why are we having this conversation, Noct?”

Noctis covers his face with his hands and gives one, shaking laugh. Prompto’s heart twists with concern. “Gods, Prom, I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

Prompto attempts to snort. It’s a bit pathetic. “Not any more than the rest of us. Don’t think you’re so special, Mr. Chosen-By-the-Gods.”

Noctis huffs a lighter, more genuine laugh before he looks back at Prompto. He notes, distantly, that Noctis has been doing that a lot tonight. Trying to keep eye contact and failing. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I appreciate it. That you’re here. It’s selfish of me, but I want you to stay.”

“Yeah?” Prompto says, heart lifting. 

“Obviously. Otherwise I would have told you to shove off ages ago.”

“No more self-flagellating thoughts about being selfish?” 

Noctis’ face hardens slightly. “I am being selfish.”

“Oh not this again,” Prompto sighs, scooting closer. He clamps both hands on Noct’s shoulders and gives him a bit of a shake, mindful of his back and his equally frayed emotions. “It’s not selfish to want things unless you’re being a dick about it. You’re not forcing me to stay. I want to be here. Can you respect that?”

Noctis gives him a long look. Prompto notices now, up close like this, that there’s a light dusting of pink across his cheeks. Fuck it’s cute. “Yeah,” Noct finally responds, and Prompto lets a smile tear across his face, lets the little bit of hope bloom once more in his chest. It’s not any specific kind of hope, definitely not anything about reciprocated feelings or being kept in the group once they find out, inevitably, about the barcode on his wrist or about the desires, new and foolish, in his heart. It’s more of a general sort of hope that maybe things will turn out okay. That at least for a little longer, he can have this. 

Somewhere in those thoughts Noctis is looking at him. Prompto feels like he is both there and not. That he is distantly observing the way that Noctis looks right through him and _knows_. The way that he balances a hand on Prompto’s thigh, hot and heavy and impossible, breath ghosting over Prompto’s face. He is so very, very close.

Prompto realises what’s happening and the jolt of adrenaline is like rushing back into his body. “Woah there!” He exclaims, and startles Noct into rocking backwards. His pulse hammers. 

Noctis scoots back further, expression pained. “Sorry!” 

Prompto is shocked all over again. This is layers upon layers of shock. That is probably the fastest and most direct apology he has ever received from Noct, like, ever. “Sorry?” He repeats, hysterical. 

“Oh gods,” Noctis groans, visibly wincing. “I completely misread the situation, okay? I’m just gonna -” he flaps a hand in the direction of the tent opening, not really looking at anything at all, and Prompto panics again, he is truly a mess, he reaches out and grabs Noct’s arm before he can stop himself or have a coherent thought beyond a crushing wave of guilt and a soaring, burning, overpowering wave of hope. 

“Wait!” He hurries. It’s a little hoarse, like his emotions are searing the inside of his throat, and it feels like that. It hurts. It hurts when Noct freezes, looking a little nervous and a lot panicked, this wanting and hope and guilt warring inside of him _hurts._

Noct just sits there, completely silent. He doesn’t even try to pull away from Prompto’s tenuous grip. Noctis looks a bit of a mess too.

“Noct? Buddy?” Prompto tries. Not so much as a breath in return. “Um. I’m going to say something a little wild, here. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. Um. You wouldn’t happen to have been trying to kiss me just then?”

Noctis clenches his jaw. “It won’t happen again.”

Prompto barely registers the words beyond the roaring in his ears. He didn’t think it was possible for his heart to beat any faster than it already had been, but wow, here it is, actually tearing out of his chest. He thinks he’s going to pass out.

 _Say something!_ He shouts to himself. “Maybe you want to try one more time? For good luck?” Wow. Prompto wants to smash his face into a wall and black out for the rest of the foreseeable future.

“What?”

Not even the Astrals can save him now. “I mean. I’d be pretty bummed if you didn’t try to k-kiss me at least one more time.”

Noctis, somehow, looks more tense than before. “Are you fucking with me?”

“What? No!” Prompto scoots closer and Noctis doesn’t move away. He has no idea what he’s doing, only that he knows he wants Noct to stop looking at him like that, that he wants - he wants - 

He kisses Noctis. 

It is, technically, a kiss, but it’s so tentative that he can feel the cold of Noct’s inhalation against the seam of his lips, they are barely pressed together at all. Then Noct shifts and it is firm, his bottom lip wet where it slides, naturally, between Prompto’s own, and he whimpers, cups Noctis’ face in one hand and grabs at his shirt with the other, dragging him in. His limbs melt with relief and his heart soars, somehow beating slower than before but harder, a steady thump that becomes all the more noticeable when Noct’s hand lands above it, hot on his bare skin. Prompto shivers.

Noctis gasps against his lips and pulls away. Prompto’s eyes flutter open. When had he closed them? “You’ve been doing that all night,” Noct repeats, and Prompto flushes impossibly more, but the embarrassment is different from a couple minutes ago. Anticipatory. 

Then it hits him.

“Hang on,” he leans back, looking at Noctis’ flushed, smug - smug!- face, and Astrals be damned but he does it again, shivers in Noct’s arms even as suspicion pierces this perfect little moment they’ve carved out for themselves. “Did you _know?!_ ”

Noctis huffs a laugh, smirk plastered across his face. “I did tell you, you know.”

“I didn’t think you knew it was because I was _hot and bothered!_ ”

Noct straight-up _laughs_ at him. “Hot and bothered?”

Prompto squawks, slapping at Noct’s chest. “See if you ever get a kiss from me again, you jerk.”

Noctis flushes a pretty pink and lowers his head. He looks at Prompto through his lashes, somehow both coy and uncertain. “I thought that’s what you wanted me to do before.”

Prompto is going to combust, he really is. “Uh, I mean, I always want to kiss you, my dude, but at that specific moment I was really just glad you weren’t kicking me out.” 

Noctis groans. He sways forward and nuzzles his face into the crook of Prompto’s neck and shoulder. Prompto immediately cardes a hand through his hair. Astrals but it is silky, even if it’s a little bit oily at the roots from their dungeon, midnight forest crawl … thing. “I messed up.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Prompto reassures him, scritching at the apex of his scalp. Noctis hums, and Prompto’s eyelids flutter at the sensation of his breath on his bare skin. 

“I had a whole plan,” Noct continues. “We were alone, you were half naked, you’d been practically drooling over me all night …”

“Okay, take it easy.”

“I was going to tell you how I feel. Just come straight out and say it. But you looked so sad when I came in that I thought I’d totally misread what’s been going on and I second-guessed myself.”

“Did you just call me sad-looking?”

“You were then.” Noctis sits up and looks at him. His eyes scan his face before locking onto his lips. “You don’t look sad now.”

“Well, somehow the thing I had been sad about worked out after all. Wait,” Prompto backtracks, the shift in tone enough to make Noctis look away from his mouth. “At exactly what point of that conversation were you trying to woo me?” 

Noctis’ blush is _furious_. “Fuck off.”

“No siree, it’s your turn to regret all of your life choi-”

Prompto is cut off quite pleasantly by Noctis’ lips. He doesn’t much mind. In fact, he goes and scoots a little closer, marvelling distantly that he is kissing his best friend and it is not weird, that it is even easy for him to slot a knee between Noctis’ own and press up, just a little, just enough to make Noctis gasp against his lips and flatten a hand brazenly against Prompto’s ass. Prompto sighs into the kiss and follows his lead, hiking up Noct’s shirt so he can press his hands against his bare, hot skin. Boy does it not take much to rile him up these days. He’s already rock hard. Luckily for him, Noctis isn’t far behind. The air is so hot between them it smells like it’s burning. 

No. Wait.

“Shit, the food!” Noctis hisses, pushing away from Prompto and scrambling out of the tent. Prompto blinks, a little lightheaded. He thinks be can be forgiven for his momentary confusion before he stumbles after Noct, just in time to see him cast an honest to gods Blizzard charm at the campfire. A significant portion of the camp area, including their chairs, the fire pit, and Ignis’ portable kitchen, are immediately covered in a thick layer of frost. It plumes into the air and drops the surrounding temperature by a few dozen degrees. Prompto shivers.

“Oh my gods,” Prompto whispers when the frost has completely settled. “Ignis is gonna kill you.”

Noctis turns his head and makes eye contact with Prompto. “True. But not before he kills you.”

“What did I have to do with any of this?!”

Noctis smirks, voice dropping an octave as he turns fully to face Prompto. “I’ll tell him all about how you distracted me.”

Prompto squawks, backing away. “That is _private_!”

“Mmhm,” Noctis hums, and damn him but it’s so low and sultry and absolutely vibrates through Prompto’s veins and he shivers, not from the cold or from fear or even from being half naked, but just this. Just him.

They don’t have much time until the others get back, at which point they will face their ultimate demise. But Prompto doesn’t mind so much. It’s more than he had before, and yet somehow it feels exactly how it’s always been, standing by Noctis’ side.

Some things never change.


End file.
